One Last Run
by King of Jacks
Summary: The Doctor is to die beside Lake Silencio, Utah in April of 1969. His death is unavoidable and he is aware of his approaching demise. In fear that he won't have the chance again, the raggedy man and his blue box of wonders and adventure travel the universe on a 200 year long "Good-bye Tour" to see his many friends and allies one last time. There is one man whom he must visit last.


Reimbold, B

**Prologue**

"_We're all just stories in the end. Let's make it a good one, yeah?"_

-The Eleventh Doctor

The Doctor is to die beside Lake Silencio, Utah in April of 1969. His death is unavoidable and he is aware of his approaching demise. In fear that he won't have the chance again, the raggedy man and his blue box of wonders and adventure travel the universe on a 200 year long "Good-bye Tour" to see his many friends and allies one last time. There is one man whom he must visit last, quite possibly the most important man the Doctor has ever come face-to-face with. Quite possibly the most dangerous man he's ever come face-to-face with; himself.

**One Last Run**

The walls of the room flickered orange with the fire of the candlelit lamp on that old dusty table in the corner. The sound of nothing but silence filled the room while it remained dark, all but that one flickering light. Before the silence grew eerie, the sound of a solitary page turning in an old leatherback book crackled through the corridor.

The man who turned the page was very much in the dark as well, other than the candle providing light beside him, one would not even have noticed the man sitting quietly, reading, and contemplating. He appeared as an older man with a stout and grumpy exterior, yet as giddy as a school child simultaneously. He possessed the ability to read and comprehend the entire book in which he was holding in a matter of seconds, yet read slowly through it, delicately turning each page.

He had pearly white hair that curled down below his ears, a rather jagged nose, and wore a black, specially tailored suit that blended in with the color of the darkness around him. His face was covered from chin to hair in wrinkles that gave him the impression almost of Scrooge, yet still with a glimmer of school child.

He turned the pages slowly, carefully reading through every last word on the page. Outside the window, the landscape grew dim in the evening's light. The red grass of Gallifrey danced in the wind, and the Great Plains beyond Mount Cadon glimmered with the last sunlight of the day's hours.

Suddenly and unannounced, a woman approached the old man. She had dark, short hair that was even shorter than the white hair of the old man. She didn't wear any significant clothing, instead dressed rather casually. "Grandfather?" she said with a grin.

"Eh?" the old man gasped. "Don't you knock?" He jumped at her sudden appearance and placed the book down.

"My apologies, grandfather. I'm just here to ask if you need anything while I'm out." She stood tall and with fantastic posture as she gestured towards the door.

"No, my dear Susan." He raised the book back to his weary eyes and began scanning the pages. "Thank you."

Susan nodded and departed as quietly as she had entered, leaving the old man to his reading. He could hear her leaving the house, and with the closing sound of the door, he sighed deeply, closing his eyes in deep thought. He remained like this for several minutes, almost giving the illusion that he had fallen asleep. He pondered unanswered questions in his head while resting his eyes from the tiring scriptures he was reading.

His eyes remained shut in the silence, the room still flickering orange. Amidst the silence there grew a sound that caused him to open one eye in curiosity. The sound grew louder as he opened his other eye and placed the book, pages down, on the table beside him. The flame on the candle flickered wildly and began blowing in an invisible wind. "What the devil is this?" the old man asked himself aloud.

The noise grew louder into a wheezing sound of old, creaky technology. That caused the old man's jaw to hang open. Loose papers began to scuttle off in the same breeze that caused the flame of the candle to linger. A faded box phased in and out of reality across from the old man, the noise growing ever louder. "What is this, nonsense?" he asked, a bit louder.

The box, a brilliant shade of blue grew deeper and deeper into view, until it had fully existed in the room across from the old man. The words "Police Public Call Box" ran across the top in glowing letters. When the box finished fading in, the draft caused the flame to blow out, filling the room with darkness other than the light emitted from the newly arrived box. The old man gazed at in splendor, never before witnessing such an event in his own home.

Suddenly, the apparent doors to the call box opened with a lively creaking sound, and a man slowly crept out from the innards of the craft. He took one slow step out of the box and immediately kicked the leg of a short table, parallel to the old man, who stared at the young fellow in astonishment. "Ow!" the young man who emerged from the call box cried, hopping up and embracing his foot he kicked the table with. On the table, a designer vase with native Gallifreyean flowers began to tip.

"Be careful with that!" the old grump shouted.

The young lengthy man shouted and practically dove to catch the vase before it plummeted to certain doom. He caught it and juggled it around before placing it back on the table in its rightful location. "Sorry. So sorry 'bout that! My…" he paused and stared at the old man, "coordination isn't what… it used to…" He stopped mid-sentence and stared at the old man, who stared back in offense as he rose. "It's really you… Never imagined this day would come, eh?"

"What in the name of Rasillon are you on about, boy? Who are you, what do you want?" the elderly man demanded.

The young man looked down at his feet as he took one small, pitiful stride into the light. He was a rather scrawny man, no more than 6 feet tall. His face was long and pointed, his cheeks were rosey and a dopey smile crept across his face that appeared to be the first in many years. He wore a brown over coat with a light colored vest underneath, and above all, a red bowtie. His hair was a swooping brown that curled at the tip. "It's been too long, Doctor," he said with a satisfied grin yet solemn voice.

"How do you know my name? What do you want?" the elderly man demanded.

"Oh, that's just like me. Love the grumpy old man days. Always demanding information," He fiddled with the button on his coat while speaking. He looked up at the old man, "always so youthful, even in these days, eh Doctor?"

"Pardon?" The white haired old man took a step towards the young, enigmatic Doctor, "Did you say, 'Just like me'?"

The young Doctor strode backwards, playfully running his fingers along portraits of the old man's family. He held one picture in specific, of him and his grand-daughter Susan, and turned back to the old man. "Just like me," he repeated. The elderly man's face grew as white as his hair as he dropped his jaw.

"I-impossible," he proclaimed. "You, you long-legged oaf, are claiming to be… me?" He snatched the portrait from the young Doctor's hands and placed it on the table, glaring at him in the eyes.

"Susan." The young man proudly announced. "She," he picked up the portrait again, "is called Susan. Your grand-daughter, well, my grand-daughter, OUR grand-daughter. How is she, by the way?"

The First Doctor stood in disbelief, slowly shaking his head from side to side. "How did you know my grand-daughter's name?" he asked inquisitively.

"Who, me?" the Eleventh squealed, "I remember it, of course, from when I was you. Awful shame to forget your own grand-daughter's name, Doctor. But you won't, of course. I didn't." He flashed a giddy smile at the old man.

The First Doctor, in an attempt to gather himself, sighed deeply and placed a hand on the big blue box. "I suppose this is my-" he stopped himself, "your, TARDIS? What is this ridiculous ascetic you have? What even is a 'Police Box'?"

"Ridiculous? Oi, you love the TARDIS, it was your choice to keep it this way, Doctor." the Eleventh said, straightening his bowtie and placing the portrait of Susan back down gently, as to be sure it wasn't damaged. He saw in the old man's eyes that the answer wasn't good enough for his standards. Eleven placed one hand on the TARDIS, leaning on it for support and moved his other hand about wildly while speaking. "Got stuck in the 1960's on Earth and copied the image of a nearby phone-booth. The chameleon circuit jammed, long story short I travel the universe in a big blue telephone."

"Earth?" the word slowly dripped from the elderly man's mouth. He sighed again, looking up at the Tardis. "Susan talks of such a place sometimes. I never imagined her stories to be anything more than folklore." The First Doctor ran his hand across the wooden paneling of the TARDIS, feeling the foreign material for the first time.

"Beautiful ship, absolutely marvelous, eh Doctor?" Eleven sprung up, he himself now basking in the glory of his space ship.

"Eh, it could be worse, I suppose." He knocked on it, hearing the hollow echoing sound it made ring through the corridors of the world inside. "Why have you come here?" He asked while sighing, turning his attention to his future self.

The Eleventh Doctor turned his back to his ship for the first time and leaned his back against the blue walls. "Because, Doctor. I remembered this, from when I was you. I remember being here, just…" he looked down quickly and jotted his eyes back up, "on the other side of the room from where I am now. The beginning of a life of splendor and adventure, now reaching its end."

"My life is anything but splendor, Doctor." the elderly man shook his head while speaking. "You should remember that."

Eleven stared at him and blinked only twice before replying, "I'm here because you're making a choice, in that fuzzy little head of yours you're figuring a way to escape this boring shab of a life."

"Excuse me?"

"No offense, Doctor." Eleven went in to fix his bowtie again.

"Must you wear that ridiculously outlandish bowtie? My sense of fashion must suffer along with age." the First Doctor ranted.

"Oi! Rule one, Doctor and it is better that you learn this at your young age." Eleven rebutted. "Bowties are cool. Now, tomorrow. What have you got planned?" he clapped his hands together and pointed in the First Doctor's face.

The old man scoffed, "You seem to remember it all yourself, you tell it."

"You're conflicted." Eleven sprung up and hovered over the man he once was. "Tomorrow you're debating on whether or not you should steal th-, your TARDIS."

The First Doctor sighed again, glancing at the floor beneath him. "I'm an old man, Doctor."

"I'm older," said Eleven with a smirk.

One gulped, glancing into his future eyes. "How much older?" he asked with a sense of dread.

"I forget." Eleven said, crossing his arms and smiling as if he were proud. "Give it a few thousand years and you will too."

"I beg your pardon?" The First Doctor choked on his own words. "Did you say 'thousands'?"

"Might have, remind me later." The Eleventh pushed himself from the wall and snapped his fingers, causing the creaky old doors of the police box to open before the white-haired Doctor. "Go along. Step inside. Behold your future, Doctor."

Once again the First Doctor's jaw hung open at the sight. He slowly placed his wrinkled hands on the edge of the box, feeling his way inside the world within. With a bit of a twirl, Eleven followed shortly behind him. He took his time taking the first step into the TARDIS, but once he had entered the control room, he strode forwards to the main console with its flashing lights and levers and nearly caressed the panel. "This is mine?"

"Someday." The Eleventh Doctor said, looking down to his shoes and biting his bottom lip. "Someday it all will be yours." His voice quivered and shook.

"Why are you showing me this?" asked the wrinkled face.

"Oh, what's that saying?" The lengthy Doctor still yet to look up, "Out with the old, in with the new?"

"Drop the riddles, man, out with it!" The First Doctor demanded, eager to know of his future plans.

"I came here to be your selling point." The Eleventh Doctor looked up finally, his old eyes were teary but yet to cry. "Because tomorrow is the first day of your new life Doctor, well isn't that ironic? Because tomorrow is the end of mine."

"You…" The First Doctor searched for the right words to say, yet found nothing. "You've come to convince me to steal this faulty TARDIS tomorrow…" He patted the console again, but the smile had vanished and was replaced by a stern cowl.

"And I know you'll comply… I did." said the Eleventh incarnation. "You know, this TARDIS," he patted the console with a hopeless grin, "it will take you places… Places you had never dreamed of." His hands flared when he spoke, but his voice sounded empty. The young, but elderly looking Doctor had his eyes fixated on every move of his future incarnation. "Oh, the people you'll see, the people you'll save, marvelous, Doctor." Eleven said, gaining more emotion in his voice as he flapped his hands about. "And the friends you'll make." The Eleventh said, straightening his bow-tie once more.

Behind him, on a monitor visible to his younger regeneration, a screen flashed with pictures of men and woman the Doctor had come to know and love. There were countless of them that came and went on the monitor, Adric, Martha, Peri, Sarah Jane, Rose, Ace, The Brigadier, Jo, young Amelia Pond with her silly grin and innocent longing to be reunited with her mysterious doctor. There was Ian and Donna, Mickey and K9, Captain Jack Harkness and many to follow. Lastly, a picture of Susan remained plastered to the monitor. The same picture, in fact, that had been in the frame in the First Doctor's room.

"My Susan…" the wrinkled lips spoke "she will come along with me?"

"Of course she will." He patted his younger self's shoulder reassuringly. "Out of all my faces, the names they've all gained me, the people who they've touched, yours is the most noble of all. You paved the way for the future to take shape, and for that, we all owe you, Doctor." The Eleventh Doctor said, a solitary tear dripping from his cheek and splashing down on the ground below. Almost as if the tear itself had triggered the reaction, a projection of a man appeared in front of the Eleventh and stood in between the two Doctors.

The man who appeared in the hologram wore a long brown trench coat with red converse shoes. His hair stood, defying gravity itself. He was young, and he was the Tenth incarnation of the two men who stood in the room. "TARDIS Data Entry: 625,915," he began to speak, a cheeky smile running from ear to ear. "Thank you, Doctor."

Then as quickly as he had come, he had vanished, flickering away from reality and was replaced by another projection. Another fairly tall man with hardly any hair at all appeared in his place. He had ears that protruded further than normal and wore a dirty leather jacket. He was the Ninth regeneration. "TARDIS Data Entry: 600,122," he began, the number of the entry counting down, "Thank you, Doctor. You were fantastic." He vanished.

"W-what is this?" the First Doctor asked before another projection could appear.

"The moment you decide to be extraordinary!" shouted the Eleventh through a giddy smile.

Another hologram materialized before them, this time of a shorter man with an older exterior than the two prior. He had a rough look to him, yet you could almost see the compassion that boiled in him, the hurt in his eyes. He was the Doctor who fought in the Time War. "Eh, TARDIS Data Entry: 593,042: Thank you, Doctor. I'm sorry."

"Who are these men?" asked the First Doctor to the Eleventh. "What was that one sorry for?"

Before he could answer, another hologram cut him off, this time of a man with dark hair that rivaled the length of the First Doctor's. He wore a long coat with a decently tailored vest underneath. He was the Eighth Doctor. "TARDIS Data Entry: 507,272," his voice was powerful, "Thank you, Doctor."

Another appeared, the shortest man yet, who carried an umbrella, who's handle resembled a question mark. He had a wardrobe in which the question mark appeared frequently. His bowler hat covered his short hair and he spoke, "TARDIS Data Entry: 452,974: Thank you, Doctor." He tipped the umbrella and disappeared from view.

"I demand to know what is happening!" The First Doctor howled, slamming an open-faced hand crashing down on the console.

"All these men want to help me convince you!" The Eleventh Doctor said, his cheeks bouncing with a smile, "and some of them have waited a very long time!"

Just as he finished speaking, another man appeared, this man being of a decent height with light blond hair, curling up in a small afro. The most noticeable feature, however was his outlandish and wacky petticoat, bright and shimmering with every color imaginable, the sixth incarnation. "TARDIS Data Entry: 417,122: Thank you, Doctor!" He gave a little wave then faded away.

"TARDIS Data Entry: 319,031", began another man quickly after. He wore a beige coat with matching trousers and a soft cloth vest underneath. His blond hair swooped over his young looking face, and his eyes were younger than any man before him. "Thank you, Doctor!" A loud crashing sound and wobbling of alarms could be heard from the projection, the holographic Fifth Doctor threw his arms up before turning back to the projection, "Sorry! Must dash!" The message faded and Eleven chuckled.

"Sontarans. You know how they can be, always conquering and declaring wars on one another." Eleven rambled but his first incarnation paid no mind to him, his eyes were fixed on the newest man to appear before them. A tall man with bushy hair, a magnificent scarf draped down to his feet. A fedora threatened to contain his hair, but didn't succeed in many areas. He was the Fourth Doctor. He looked strangely at the two men in the room, as if he could really see them, then made a face in the general direction that Eleven stood.

"TARDIS Data Entry: 185,101: Thank you, Doctor!" His booming voice filled the room and he flashed a goofy smile before fizzing out of reality.

"To think I have touched this many lives…" The First Doctor began.

"Oh don't you even begin, mister!" Eleven interrupted as the next man appeared before them. A tall man with bushy white hair that complimented his height, a stark look on his face with a kiddish happiness to him.

"TARDIS Data Entry: 119,002: Thank you, Sir!" The Third Doctor began putting on his coat as the hologram faded, and with no time in between, another man took his place, that of a shorter height than his third incarnation, with the darkest hair color imaginable. Tucked away in his jacket was the tip on a recorder that was poking out. He was the unmistakable Second Doctor.

"Eh, TARDIS Data Entry: 50,913: It has been awhile." He paused for breath. "Thank you, Doctor."

There it was again, that dreadful silence between the two Time Lords, nothing but the eerie bells and whistles of the TARDIS could be heard whilst they stood, one grinning a grin of sheer giddy and the other, mouth agape, fiddling with the buttons and levers with his mind, at last, he spoke. "So I suppose some good will come out of me borrowing that old box, eh?"

Eleven hopped up on his feet from his previous leaning position, he twirled his arms around each other and formed the words in his mind. "More than you could possibly dream of. I can't stay for much longer, the TARDIS doesn't like it, us both being here at once, but, there is one more person who I believe wants to thank you.

"Well, what's one more? I believe you- or, I've proven my point just about as well as-"

"Hang on, am I doing this right? Hello?" A female voice spoke, an array of static following. Her voice silenced the First Doctor as her image flicked onto every screen available in the ship. She had no hologram, simply an image. "Ah, there… Um… TARDIS En-Data Entry number one:" She cleared her throat and the seemingly old man's agape mouth dropped lower than previously imaginable as he muttered something incoherent. "Thank you, Doctor. Thank you, Grandfather."

His doubting face became anew in that moment. In that moment he had gone from troubled and mixed emotions, to that of confidence, confidence that was to abide in him through his new life and beyond. "I envy you." Eleven mumbled. "All those adventures just a dash away from where you stand now, all the people you have yet to meet, the danger you've yet to escape, oh I envy every last bit of you, Doctor. You get to experience it all."

The sound of the TARDIS cloister bell filled the air and smoke began to arise from the crevices behind the Time Lords. "We've upset her now. The TARDIS doesn't like us being here together, so we better make this quick."

"There is still one thing I don't quite understand." The elderly appearing man spoke with a stern tone even in confusion. "Those men, who were they?"

Eleven smiled, looking down to his shoes, a single tear growing in his eye. "That's for you to decide. I envy you."

The First Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS and the Eleventh followed to the door and stopped there while the first incarnation spoke. "I understand now. Good luck to you, sir. Whatever your adventures might bring tomorrow, you have my thanks and sincerest wishes. Stay warm, ole chap. Stay warm."

The Eleventh incarnation gazed over the man he once was from the interior of his ship. "Goodbye, Doctor."

Just as the TARDIS made its final wheeze and groan, Susan had returned and barged through the doors once again unannounced, leaving the old man standing in a disorderly room before her. "What was all that commotion?" She asked.

"Ah, nothing. It was only me."

8


End file.
